As the hum of Warren LaFave's float plane faded into the distance, the silence of the wilderness closed in, and we shrank beneath the monumental Cirque of the Unclimbables. Suddenly we were committed.
Several thousand feet above jumbled boulderfields emerging from the boundless forest, the idyllic Fairy Meadows were still buried under four feet of snow; a soft landing for our air-dropped technical kit, but demanding in return a rising panic of search and contingency plans for climbing sans harness, sans boots, sans rope...The final barrel would eventually be found bobbing in an eddy on the brink of a four thousand feet helter-skelter down to Glacier Lake.
The numerous bear tracks around the Fairy Meadows did little to dispel the anxiety prompted on our walk-in by the sight of two enormous grizzlies swaggering along the valley we had vacated half an hour ago. We all began to scrutinise the instructions on the ridiculous can of anti-bear pepper spray we had brought with us like a talisman from Batman's utility belt.
With our tents pitched under the protective roof of a house-sized boulder, the early days of rain and sleet forced the opportunity to rig tackle lines on old rivet bolts, and improvise cooking and eating facilities. The plastic barrels we had used for the airdrop provided excellent food containers, and our snow-soaked boots soon began to dry in the wind.
The walk from Fairy Meadows up to the foot of the legendary Lotus Flower Tower is normally a gentle stroll. When we arrived, winter was still thinking about leaving, mantling the cirque with the wettest floundering snow that any of us had ever seen, and entertaining us with a four hour flog to stash a pile of technical gear under a perched block in preparation for the big day.
